


Christmas Blues

by peacenik0



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Christmas Angst, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Friendship/Love, OTP Feels, Post-Episode: s06e06 How the Ghosts Stole Christmas, Romantic Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-22 09:43:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17057462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacenik0/pseuds/peacenik0
Summary: Mulder realizes that there is only one person he wants to spend Christmas with. Will he make a move?





	Christmas Blues

** Christmas Blues **

by Peacenik0

Post “How the Ghosts Stole Christmas”

\---

It’s Christmas Eve, and Mulder is alone, as always. Scully is off getting ready for Christmas with her family, but he has nowhere to go on this joyless holiday, and no one to spend it with. For a moment watching _A Christmas Carol_ on TV makes him feel a little better, but as the movie winds to a happy ending, his “Christmas blues” are back with a vengeance. If he were visited by the Ghost of Christmas Future, what would he see? Surely his future would be a solitary one, devoid of happiness, devoid of love. Mulder slumps further into his worn leather couch, weighed down with the heaviness of his own Christmas melancholy.

Suddenly, there is a knock on the door causing Mulder to jump. He is still feeling a little on edge after their ordeal at the haunted house. Vigilantly rounding the corner, he looks for signs of ghosts in his apartment. The door creaks open to reveal Scully, the only person he wants to see on Christmas (and if he’s honest, the only person he ever wants to see). For a moment he wonders if this is trick that Maurice and Lyda are playing on him. Is this the real Scully, or an apparition? 

“Can I come in?” she asks as he quickly guides her into his apartment.

\---

“It’s perfect, thank you.” Mulder holds the director’s cut edition of the 1956 classic _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ in his hands with reverence. He can’t help the boyish smile creeping across his face as he looks at his treasure. “You know I love a good B movie.”

“Yes, I know, and you’re welcome,” she says softly, holding her gift carefully in her hands. Mulder had come across this small golden telescope in the gift shop of the Smithsonian by accident, but something about it reminded him of Scully. “This is lovely, Mulder. Dare I ask what made you think of me when you bought this?”

“Uh, it was on the clearance rack, so I couldn’t help myself,” he chuckles lightly.

“Really, Mulder,” Scully says dryly, looking at him through the telescope. “You shouldn’t have.”

“No, actually it’s a replica of the telescope from Moby Dick,” he grins at her. Her expression is one of pleasant surprise as she inspects her gift carefully. “Did I get it right?”

“Actually, you did,” there is a hint of affection in her voice as she carefully places the telescope on the coffee table. “I didn’t know you could be so thoughtful.” 

“Someone needs to teach you some manners, Miss Scully. When someone gives you a gift, the proper response is to politely accept and say thank you.” Mulder deadpans. Her eyes glow in the green light of his fish tank, an arresting mix of emerald and sapphire. 

“Thank you, Mulder,” she breathes taking his hand in hers. Their eyes lock for a moment, and his heart clenches in his chest. Dana Scully, beloved of Fox Mulder; too bad his beloved doesn’t feel the same way. He quickly looks away, attempting to ignore these unwanted feelings.

“Ahh, it was nothing,” he mumbles, waving his hand. They are getting into dangerous territory; time to change the subject. Mulder bounces off the couch and heads to his fridge. It smells terrible. Maybe he should take the holiday to clean out whatever is growing in there. 

“You want a beer or something?” he asks from the kitchen.

“A beer on Christmas morning…?” Scully trails off. He wishes he had something a little more festive, but he hardly ever goes to the grocery store as it is.

“Well, I would offer you eggnog, but I’m pretty sure that it expired in 1993, and I like you too much to give you Salmonella,” Mulder says, returning from the kitchen with two beers. 

“Well thanks,“ Scully says dryly as she twists off the cap. “I appreciate that.”

“Now Frohike on the other hand…” he deadpans, as Scully stifles a soft giggle.

“Cheers,” she says brightly. Their bottles clink together in unison.

\---

“You want to watch a movie?” Mulder turns on the TV, and starts flipping through the channels. “I think Die Hard is on channel twelve.” 

“Die Hard?” Scully scoffs and raises an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t we watch a Christmas movie?” 

“But Die Hard is a Christmas movie!” He says emphatically, finally stopping on channel twelve as Alan Rickman’s German terrorist cackles maniacally from the screen. _This is so good_ , Mulder thinks.

“On whose authority? Yours?” She teases him, taking a sip of beer. “Die Hard is a guy movie, Mulder.”

“Maybe, but it’s also a Christmas movie!” Mulder turns to her, feeling a bit giddy at the prospect of having to prove his theory. “Bruce Willis has to defeat the bad guys in order to save his estranged wife and get home to his young children on Christmas morning. He basically saves Christmas, Scully.” He watches as Scully raises her trademark skeptical eyebrow. 

“You realize that you just told me the entire plot of the movie, right?” She says smiling and playfully patting his chest. Could she be tipsy after only a few sips of beer? “Which means that now we don’t have to watch it… so thanks.” Scully tips her bottle towards him, and takes another swig of beer to punctuate her point. 

“Oh ye of little faith,” he chuckles setting their beers on the coffee table. Sinking back into his worn leather couch, Scully places her hand on his knee. His hand settles on top of hers, as if it belongs there. “Just you wait,” Mulder smirks at her. “You’re going to love it.” 

“We’ll see.” Scully murmurs. Their fingers edge closer to one another, as if they are two middle-schoolers on a first date, testing the waters. Mulder’s heart hammers in his chest, as her pinky finger slowly hooks into his. They stay like that for a while, locked in a strange kind of pinky promise.

Rapid gunfire blares from the TV screen, as Mulder watches Bruce Willis outsmart a team of erstwhile German terrorists. Scully is snuggled next to him, her head lolling on his shoulder. A sense of comfort and warmth envelops him, much like sitting in front of a crackling fireplace. Her fingers draw slow circles on the inside of his palm, trailing up to his wrist and back. It sends a series of pleasant tingles up his arm, and relaxes him. 

“That feels nice,” he mumbles, looking over at her. Unsurprisingly, Scully’s eyes are drifting closed, a strand of copper hair has fallen into her face. 

“Mmmhmm,” Scully hums sleepily. Mulder knows that he shouldn’t let her fall asleep, her family is waiting for her. As he tucks the strand of hair behind her ear, he allows himself to linger close just a little too long. Her eyes slide open slowly, and the air between them becomes heavy. Mulder longs to cross the chasm of distance that separates them. 

“I should go,” she whispers, looking away. 

“Okay…” he says, unable to keep the note of disappointment out of his voice. Now his fingers trace the back of her hand. “I don’t want to be the one responsible for keeping you away from your family on Christmas.”

“You should come.” Scully offers tentatively. “I’m sure my mother would love to have you.” 

“Nah, I don’t want to impose. Besides, your brother Bill already hates me.” Mulder knows that Bill has a reason to dislike him, but the thought of being around Scully’s older brother still makes him quake in his boots.

“Yeah, but I’ll make sure he behaves himself. Although I can’t say the same for you.” She says dryly. 

“I don’t even know what I would talk to him about.” 

“Well… you both like football.” She offers, grasping at straws.

“What’s his team?”

“The Chargers, now that he’s in San Diego.” Scully says getting up from her place next to him on the couch. “Traitor,” she says under her breath. Mulder scoffs at this.

“I thought you were trying to get me to like him,” Mulder deadpans. “You know I’m a Redskins fan.”

“Yes, the Redskins, the _only_ team,” she says putting on her coat, and gathering her gift from the coffee table. “You could always remind him of how the Redskins beat the Chargers twenty-four to twenty a few weeks ago.” 

“I don’t think I need to give him yet another reason to hate me, Scully.” Mulder cracks, absently placing a hand on the small of her back as they walk towards the door. They stand facing each other under the door frame. He doesn’t want her to leave, but he also can’t ask her to stay.

“Thank you for the telescope,” she says before placing it in her pocket. “It was a very nice gesture.”

“Ah, you don’t need to thank me… but I’ll settle for a Christmas kiss.” He smirks at her, trying to make his tone light and irreverent. This way, he can claim it was a joke if she balks at him. Scully looks up at the overhang and frowns.

“Well, seeing as you didn’t hang any mistletoe, I’d say you’re out of luck.” The corner of her mouth turns up in a grin. 

“Hmm,” he clicks his tongue. “I’ll have to remember next year.”

“You will.” She stands on tiptoe, and Mulder thinks for a moment that maybe things are about to change for them. That maybe this year will be different. “Merry Christmas, Mulder.” Scully whispers, giving him a faint kiss on the cheek. Then she wipes it away with her thumb, as if to erase its very existence. Their faces are close, and Mulder’s heart is beating fast again. For a moment he thinks about what Maurice said: 

_Go ahead, change your life._

“Merry Christmas, Scully...” He says softly, attempting to gather up his courage. This is his last chance to ask her to stay, but fear takes over, and the words get tangled in his mouth like Christmas ribbons. So he nervously scratches his neck and looks down at his shoes. “I’m glad you came over.”

“Me too,” she says, her voice catching on the ‘t’. When he looks up, she is already down the hall getting into the elevator. As their eyes meet from across the hallway, his heart fills with that old familiar ache he knows so well by now.

“Next year?” He calls after her, watching as the doors close in, like another brick wall keeping them apart.

“We’ll see,” she says. Mulder thinks he hears the same deep yearning in her voice as she disappears from view.

\---

The End.


End file.
